


One by one our ties are torn

by shovel_bunny



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 12:21:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1688201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shovel_bunny/pseuds/shovel_bunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil loves his ties and so, apparently, does Clint.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One by one our ties are torn

**Author's Note:**

> Many thank to Ralkana for instigating this collection which inspired me to actually post something to the archive for the first time in a long time. And also thanks to (I think) Nerdwegian because I think I may have seen the nsfw gif which inspired this fic on your tumblr? This was originally intended to be quite a bit pornier but it didn't want to go there this time...

‘Hahaha, fuck you, boss,’ Barton flings over his shoulder as he turns to his locker and drops his hands to his belt buckle.

The corner of Phil’s mouth twitches into the smile Barton always seems to bring out, as he admires the archer’s beautifully muscled back and his mouth opens before his brain can catch up, ‘Not today, Barton.’

Later Phil would wonder where in the hell this insane impulse came from. He’s not exactly known for his playful, spur of the moment nature though it’s there if anyone cares to look for it. Most people don’t bother, his reputation as more robot than human too well established, but Barton’s always been able to see a little deeper than just about anyone else. Still, he doubts if anyone is more surprised than he is when, in reply to Barton’s cheeky response, his tie flicks out from where he was just unknotting it from his neck and wraps around the archer’s taut throat.

Barton freezes and turns slowly on one bare heel, the silk of the tie slipping against sweat slick skin to almost fall loose, his hand reaching up to keep it in place, keeping himself anchored to Phil by the thin strip of cloth. Phil’s hand clenches jerkily against the end of the tie as Barton raises a questioning eyebrow, but the small hopeful smile on his face is enough to steady him.

‘Really, boss? Here? Now?’ Barton starts to lean back against the lockers, pulling at the tie stretched between them. 

Testing his boundaries, Phil realises, testing him to see what he’ll do, if he has the balls to go through with what he’s started or if he’ll let go, laugh it off and allow them to slide back into this nebulous thing they have, all hot glances, sly innuendo and banter but no resolution. This simmering tension that somehow amplifies an enduring friendship instead of stretching it to snapping point.

Phil grins and tightens his grip on the tie as he uses it to reel Barton in. He wants to laugh at the surprise on Barton’s face but swallows it down along with the rest of his nerves as he draws Barton closer and closer, until they’re standing barely inches apart and it feels like they’re breathing the same heated air.

‘Yep, here and now,’ he murmurs, looking straight into Barton’s eyes, making sure they really are on the same page, before dropping his gaze down to that delectable mouth.  
The same mouth that spits out smart-ass wisecracks and dead on tactical analysis and that can make Phil smile and wince and hope and despair seemingly without effort. The delicious looking lower lip that is currently being mangled by Barton’s own teeth as he worries at it, which Phil objects to on a point of principal because surely only he should be allowed to nibble at it like that. Though he may be getting a little ahead of himself given that he hasn’t tasted Barton’s mouth at all yet. A fact which needs to be remedied immediately in Phil’s opinion.

He snags the other end of the tie from Barton’s grasp and uses it to pull his head down firmly until he can tilt his face just so and catch Barton’s – Clint’s – mouth in a kiss that is ridiculously sweet for all the years of pent up longing and lust that have been held in check until now.

Their lips press together softly, moving gently in a give and take that feels sublime, especially when Clint’s hands drop to grasp at Phil’s waist, clutching a little desperately to keep him close even as he pulls back from the kiss just a touch.

They’re both a little breathless as Phil lets the tie relax a fraction so that Clint can pull back enough to look him in the eye properly.

‘Are you sure, Phil? Because I don’t think I can go back if we start this now.’ There’s an intensity to Clint that Phil hasn’t seen directed at him in full force before and it makes his breath hitch.

‘I’m very sure, Clint. I want this. Want you,’ Phil says firmly. He’s rewarded with another of those small shy smiles and Clint moves forward, responding eagerly to the pressure Phil hadn’t even realised he was reapplying on the tie, moaning softly into the kiss as Phil licks lovingly into his mouth.

When Phil relaxes the tie a fraction Clint responds instantly, mirroring the pressure, he relaxes until he’s pressing light nipping kisses against Phil’s mouth and mouthing along his jaw line. Intrigued, Phil angles the pressure of the tie lightly down and to the left and gasps as arousal ratchets up, unbelievably, even higher when Clint follows the lead without hesitation and begins to nuzzle and nip at Phil’s neck, alternating with light sucking kisses.

Phil almost gets lost in a sudden flurry of mental images of such luscious promise that he very nearly loses it there and then. He’s assaulted by visions of Clint naked but for the tie, eagerly allowing Phil to direct him, of Clint sliding down, down, Phil’s body, that sinful mouth wreaking havoc wherever it traces.

Images of Clint sprawled on Phil’s bed, the tie transferred from his neck to his wrists, stretched high above him. Phil’s entire body shudders at that one and then again as he imagines their positions reversed, his own wrists pinioned with the soft strength of the silk and all Clint’s strength ranged over him.

He drops the tie and brings both hands up to cup gently around Clint’s face, bringing him back up from where he’s still lavishing attention on Phil’s throat, seemingly content to map every sensitive spot there.

‘Christ Clint, we need to find a bed right now.’

Clint grins, eyes dancing mischievously, ‘Sir, yes sir. My quarters are closer, follow me.’ He backs away to shove his locker closed, not even bothering to sling a t-shirt on and if the halls weren’t sure to be deserted at this time in the morning, even at HQ, he might, _might_ , be tempted to balk at that but as it is he just reaches out a hand for his tie.

Interestingly Clint blushes bright red at that, allowing Phil to map the flush of blood from his face, down his neck and over his magnificent chest. He tries not to salivate too obviously as Clint shakes his head and takes a step away, hand clutching at the tie around his neck protectively.

‘Um, I think I’ll just keep hold of this for now... if that’s ok?’

Phil’s grin turns wicked as he realises that Clint’s definitely interested in some of those delectable ideas Phil had been conjuring mere moments ago.

‘Yes, Clint. I think that’ll do just fine.’ Phil gestures for the archer to precede him trying his hardest to keep his hands to himself until they get to Clint’s quarters. They’re going to have plenty of time to explore their mutual interest in neckwear he hopes and absently considers that he may need to put in an order for some more ties from his tailor. A _lot_ more ties.


End file.
